Crazy Circles
by MaggieMay21
Summary: A curse John Winchester hoped would never pass to his children has fallen upon them. When Mary dies, how does John deal with Sam and Dean on his own? What will this mean for their relationship?
1. Chapter 1

_**Crazy Circles**_

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**Chapter 1**

_January 24th, 1979_

I can't take this waiting much longer, John thought to himself as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital silently. His legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation as he scrubbed his hand over his face to clear the sweat that was about to drip into his eyeballs.

His wife Mary was in the delivery room giving birth to their first child. She had insisted John sit and wait in the waiting room - she had assumed he wouldn't be able to handle the 'supporting role' he would have to play if he were to go in. And she was right for the most part, he wouldn't be able to offer support with his nerves running so high.

When John discovered Mary was pregnant, his first feelings were unimaginable excitement and joy. After all, he wanted to be a father – and he knew Mary wanted to be a mother. But his joy soon drained away when he thought long and hard about what this would mean.

Would their child be cursed as John's father was? Would John have to tell Mary about his family's past? It wasn't anything _he_ particularly had done, but he was the one who would pass the curse along and he knew it.

It skipped generations, which was why John was an only child – like his father before him had been. No one knew how exactly the curse would affect siblings, so no one dared try it.

Now John knew his son or daughter would be like his father.

John and Mary decided they didn't want to know the sex of the baby until it was born. They wanted to be surprised upon his or her arrival.

But maybe it was in his head, John thought to himself tiredly. Maybe their child would come out completely normal like him and Mary. Maybe there was nothing at all to worry about, and he was just ruining this beautiful moment with his worry.

So John decided he wouldn't say anything to Mary just yet. He wouldn't bring it up unless their child started acting…_weird_.

John was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by a thin tanned woman with dark hair wearing light blue scrubs walking through the double doors to the waiting room.

"John Winchester?" She called sweetly.

Instantly John was up, and standing in front of the woman practically shaking. She took in his tall frame with a quick glance and smiled up at him.

"Your wife is resting – she's in her room with the baby now. Congratulations sir, you're a father."

"Thank you." John replied with a sigh of relief as a smile warmed his face, "Can I go see them?"

"Of course." The nurse said softly, "Just follow me – I'll take you to them."

John's smile turned into an excited toothy grin as it became harder and harder to hide just how happy he was that he was finally a father. He just hoped their child was normal.

**xXx**

_January 24th, 1981_

Mary and John Winchester's son Dean was as normal as little boys were on their second birthday. So far there was nothing weird or unexplainable about this kid, other than his impeccable lung capacity. Dean doesn't cry, he wails - and once he gets started…good luck getting him to stop.

This morning had been a usual morning for John and Mary. Mary woke up to the sounds of Dean's unsettled little whines of discomfort, so she got out of bed and changed his diaper before the kid got going with the tears. While John on the other hand, cooked the breakfast for mommy and the birthday boy.

When Mary came downstairs with a clean and happy two year old in her arms, John was more than thrilled. He had taken off work today at the Garage to spend his sons' birthday with him, and didn't want to waste a second of it.

So far, Dean's life has been a completely normal one. He's shown no signs of being under the curse, which was a blessing. Maybe God had heard John's prayers for a normal son, and has delivered. Either way, John decided it best not to look this in the mouth.

Instead, he would live out the rest of his life with his beautiful wife, raising their son the best they could – completely normal, completely safe.

**xXx**

_January 24th, 1983_

John walked in the front door with a handful of groceries in each hand, and a little bouncy four year old boy at his heel.

Dean helpfully closed the door behind his father when John failed to do so with his hands full. He whispered thanks to Dean before they both trailed into the kitchen to find his very pregnant wife cooking lunch over the gas stove.

The moment Dean ran into the kitchen, Mary's face lit up into the most vibrant smile John's seen in a long while.

"Hey Dean, you ready for lunch, baby?" She asked her son sweetly.

"Whatcha makin'?" The four year old tested with a toothy grin.

"Your favorite, silly - grilled cheese and tomato soup." Mary responded with a gentle chuckle.

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed as he took his usual seat at the dining room table.

As John entered the kitchen, he placed the bags of groceries on the kitchen table in front of his son and began to unload each bag, maneuvering around Mary and Dean to put things in their proper places.

Mary turned her attention back to the pot full of tomato soup, and stirred it slowly as she placed her free hand on her sore lower back.

"Did you get the cake?" Mary asked John with an intent look in her eyes as she spared him a sideways glance.

"Of course." John replied with a smile, "It's in the refrigerator in the garage."

"Good." Mary said with a relieved nod.

They had to hide the cake in the garage, they've had to since Dean's third birthday when he learned the fridge was where the goodies where. So they bought another refrigerator and stuck it in the garage where Dean couldn't get to.

John offered his gorgeous wife a pride-filled gaze as he placed the new loaf of bread in its proper pantry. She didn't seem to notice as she continued to stir her soup with a gentle smile on her face.

He then turned his attention to Dean who was seated at the table patiently, picking at his little fingernails with a bored haze in his green eyes.

So far so good, John thought to himself with relief. They've made it four years so far, and Dean hasn't done anything too out of the ordinary. He was just a normal four year old little boy, and things were perfect.

John hadn't been too happy though when Mary announced to him that she was pregnant with their second child. He figured he got lucky with Dean; could he dodge another bullet with their second child?

Only time would tell, John guessed as he walked over to the dining room table and withdrew the fresh carton of milk from the plastic bag.

But for now, he would have to thank his lucky stars that everything was normal for the time being.

**xXx**

_May 2nd, 1983_

Dean wasn't feeling so great today, and neither were John or Mary. Their son had woken them up that morning by crawling into bed with them with tears in his eyes, which was pretty unusual. Mary struggled to get up quickly with her large pregnant belly getting in the way. But John sat up in a hurry, staring after Dean with drawn together eyebrows out of concern.

"What's-a-matter, champ?" John asked Dean as he pulled their son closer to his chest.

Dean sniffled for a moment before replying. "I don't feel very good."

"Why, honey? What's wrong?" Mary chimed in soothingly, wincing in pain when she sat up all the way. She leaned back a little to relieve the pressure building in her spine.

"My head hurts." Dean admitted as he hid his face in his fathers' chest.

"John, go downstairs and get Dean some of that Children's Tylenol - that should help him." Mary instructed with a drawn out sigh as she made her legs slowly off the side of the bed to start her day.

"You need any help?" John offered as he stood from the bed, cradling their son in his arms.

"You can help me by helping Dean." Mary huffed, sounding slightly annoyed.

John only nodded as he kicked his slippers on and headed out of the bedroom with Dean.

Mary had been slightly more irritable during the last few weeks. John prayed that was a good sign. Their new child should be coming any day now the doctors were saying.

Dean was excited to be a big brother. John and Mary had talked to him countless times about how they would need his help once the baby was born. They would need him to help them with the new baby, and to just lend a hand around the house when asked. Dean seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, which couldn't make Mary or John any prouder.

So far, Dean had been brought up so perfectly. They only hoped their new child would be as wonderful.

John took Dean down the stairs, and into the kitchen where he sat Dean down at the dining room table. The child groaned in pain once he was pulled from his fathers' chest.

"You'll be alright soon, son." John promised as he turned his back on Dean to head toward the cabinet over the stove where the medicines were stored.

John opened the cabinet, and pulled out the large bottle of Children's Tylenol. He untwisted the cap, and popped two of the chewable pills into his hands before recapping the bottle and placing it back into the cabinet.

But what met John's eyes when he turned around made his heart freeze in his chest and a feeling of dread and fear wash over his entire being.

The white pajamas Dean had just not two seconds ago been wearing were now in a pile on the chair John had just sat him. But standing on the pile of vacant clothes stood a shaken red fox pup.

Its fur was pretty short because the animal was clearly pretty young. Its head and back down to its tail were a brilliant shade of orange-red, while its legs down to its paws were black along with the back of its ears. But the fox's underbelly was white; from its chin to what John assumed was its navel.

Looking at the animal, John knew instantly that it was Dean. It's rounded confused brown eyes looking up at his father begging for an explanation as his shaking legs barely kept him standing.

It was the curse. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, as he walked over to the timid pup careful not to frighten him more.

"It's alright, Dean." John whispered, "God, I had hoped this curse would skip you."

The pups' ears perked at his fathers' words wondering what on earth his daddy was talking about. Dean didn't know what was wrong. One minute he was sitting at the table in a world of pain – and then the next it stopped and he was standing on four legs.

The pup let out a pitiful whine, causing John to rush to his child's side as tears sprung from his face. He knelt down so that he was eyelevel with the little critter, and examined it carefully.

"Are you still hurting, son?" John prodded with a sniffle, trying to keep a strong front for his child.

The animal yipped, and shook its pelt almost excitedly which John decided to take as a no. It seemed that Dean was in pain because it was just his time to fall victim to this curse.

Oh God, John thought desperately to himself – he had to tell Mary. She wouldn't understand, there was no way in hell she'd understand. What would she do if she learned their son was cursed, and this it was all John's fault?

Oh, even worse – John thought hysterically, they now had another child on the way. John was the first one in his long family line in such a long time to produce two offspring – he had no idea how this curse would affect the new baby.

"Can you uh…change back now, Dean?" John asked the little critter with sincerity as he eyed the little animal curiously.

Dean yipped, followed by a pathetic sounding whine – and John knew instantly that, that meant Dean wasn't sure how to change back.

"I don't really know how either, kiddo." John admitted as more tears stung his eyes, threatening to spill over, "I guess it'll just come to you."

The fox let out a small bark, which sounded more like a howl – John wasn't really sure what the hell that noise was for, but he picked up the little red fox and got back up to his feet.

He had to tell Mary, it was either now or never.

John could only hope though, that Mary wouldn't hate him forever for not telling her sooner.

**xXx**

Mary stood in her bedroom, with her fuzzy white bathrobe over her silky white nightgown which draped down to her knees. She sighed contently when she looked down at her large pregnant belly as she thought to herself, _"Come on out, kiddo. We're ready for you."_

But as the child had for the last week, it ignored her silent plea.

Mary heard footsteps working their way up the stairs and knew it was John coming in to check up on her. She felt bad for snapping on him all the time, lately – but she was becoming frustrated because the baby was due two days ago.

She was just ready to _not_ be pregnant anymore!

There was a soft wrap on the door, as John announced himself wordlessly before entering their bedroom. Without waiting for a reply, he slowly opened the door looking up at his wife with a sort of panicked expression in his eyes.

Instantly, she thought it was something wrong with Dean – but she then noticed the small red animal cradled in John's hand, and her curiosity kicked up notch.

"What's that?" Mary wondered aloud, eyeing the tiny fox warily.

John ignored the question and took in a deep breath. "Mary…there's something really important I gotta talk to you about."

"Alright…does it have to do with that animal?" Mary asked sounding a little annoyed.

The fox whined sadly in John's arms and burrowed its head into John's chest, hiding its face from her line of sight.

_"That animal" _his mom had just called him. Those words really hurt him. Why didn't his mom recognize him? Daddy had! What was wrong, here?

John sighed before replying. "It does, as a matter of fact. Um…you may wanna sit down for this."

"No John, what's going on?" Mary demanded stubbornly.

John took in another deep breath before diving right into his family secret. "Do you uh…do you believe in curses?"

Mary had to admit, she was taken aback by the question. Of course she believed in curses – she came from a family of _hunters_ for God's sake, she's dabbled in curses once in a while over the course of her lifetime.

But that was all in the past, nothing weird or out of the normal in her life anymore. She, her children, and her husband were safe.

"Well, to be honest John – I've never really given it much thought." Mary lied, "Why, what's this about?"

"Well…" John started hesitantly, "my family is cursed."

"What are you talking about, John?" Mary asked as a cold dread seeped through her. Was he serious? What kind of curse?

"It um…it only goes back six or seven or so generations ago…see, it skips every other generation. My father had it…and now I think it's passed along to our son." John confessed as more tears made their way down his face.

"What do you mean, John?" Her voice taking on a higher octave as cold panic replaced the seeping dread. What had he passed on to their children?

Damnit, she thought to herself sadly, she thought she had escaped this life! But no, here it was living in her home with her. All she wanted was a normal life, with her normal husband, and their two normal children.

She so desperately wanted her old life to be behind her.

"I um…I don't really know much of the story. But one of the men in my family line went and mixed himself up in some stupid Indian magic. He went ahead and got himself cursed by some friggin Shaman or whatever…and now it's affecting in his family line."

Mary didn't say anything, she just kept a wary eye on her husband and the tiny animal in his hand as it raised its head as if listening to his words.

"My father had this curse," John continued sadly, "and even though I don't…I sure had to learn to live with it."

"What does this curse do, John?" Mary asked in a whispered voice as she choked back the hysteria in her voice.

John eyed his wife curiously for a moment. Why wasn't she freaking out on him? Why wasn't she calling him a liar? Why did she seem to _believe_ him?

"What my dad told me, he said the curse gives the victim the ability to change into its _animal spirit_. But I'm not sure if I believe that tale…the way he put it made it almost seem like a gift instead of a curse."

"Animal Spirit?" Mary wondered aloud, yep – that definitely sounded like Native American magic.

John nodded, and gave a dry chuckle as another tear streamed down his face, "But in reality, it's almost like the person goes crazy from it."

"How so?" Mary asked trying to sound calm. She eyed the red fox in John's arm, and pieced together what John was telling her, with what _exactly_ this animal had to do with his tale.

"My uh…my father could change into a uh bear. A big friggin' black bear too, it was freaky watching him do that." John admitted as he shook his head slightly trying to get rid of the image of his father in that form, "But sometimes when he…even when he wasn't in that form…sometimes he would still act like an animal. It was like he sometimes he had trouble telling the difference between what he could be…and what he was supposed to be."

"John," Mary began intently, "did he ever hurt you?"

Taken aback by the question, John turned his eyes to his wife curiously. This wasn't right, why was she buying this? No normal person would.

"Why are you believing me, Mary?" John asked in a whispered voice.

Mary shrugged her shoulders as she made her way over to her husbands' side, "I believe you because I see that look in your eye. You didn't tell me because you didn't know _how_. You didn't do it to hurt me and I know it."

John nodded as another tear escaped his guard. He was so grateful to have someone so wonderful as her.

"Did your father ever hurt you, John?" Mary repeated.

Instantly, without even really thinking about it – John shook his head. In neither form had his father ever even attempted to hurt him. It was the scariest thing, because no matter what his dad looked like, or how he acted – it was like he could still tell who was important in his life. He could tell who his son was, and his wife before she left them.

Honestly, this could be much worse – Mary thought to herself, trying to calm her racing nerves. At first she thought John was talking about a curse that could mean their children's' lives. But this seemed to be manageable. She knew it wouldn't be easy…but it would be alright if her children were raised right.

Mary took a deep breath, and held her arms out expectantly. "Lemmie see Dean."

John looked down at the critter in his arms, as the tiny fox looked up curiously.

Instantly, John handed over the furry bundle over to Mary and watched as she cradled him as she had done with Dean so many times before.

It was almost like, Dean wasn't an animal right then.

"How many times should we expect this to happen, John? Is it frequent? Like with a full moons cycle or what?" Mary asked sounding completely serious as she looked up at her husband.

John shrugged. "They don't change with the full moon. I think it's just…whenever they want to or something."

Mary nodded as she looked back down at the happy little fox in her arms. It gave her an excited yip as he reached upward, and licked her cheek.

Dean looked so happy, despite what he was going through. It was so obvious he could still understand them; he knew he was with his parents, and that he was safe. He was aware of his surroundings.

And in that moment, Mary couldn't really explain it as a tear she hadn't felt coming on ran down her face – she knew that everything was going to be alright. Her children were in no danger.

"Its okay, John." Mary whispered happily, keeping her eyes down on her son.

Another tear escaped John's guard as relief swept over him. She didn't hate him. Mary wasn't going to pack the kids up and leave. And right then, John believed her words. Everything would be fine.

Suddenly, a gentle pain began to make itself known in Mary's lower belly. It wasn't an overwhelming pain, but it was present all the same.

She handed Dean back off to his father, and held her stomach. "I think it's almost time, John. We should get moving."

"Right now?" John asked sounding completely surprised as Mary inhaled deeply through the gentle nudging in her stomach and lower back.

"Right now." Mary confirmed with a jerky nod.

John looked downward at Dean who was wagging his little red tail back and forth excitedly. He wasn't sure if Dean knew what they were talking about, or if he was still just jazzed that he had been recognized.

"Come on, Dean." John said excitedly, "It's time to get your little brother or sister."

Dean's face lit up excitedly as he squirmed in his fathers' arms excitedly making happy yipping noises. He reached up, and licked his fathers' cheek in his moment of overwhelming happiness.

He was definitely ready to be a big brother, now.

* * *

_Just a quick note - I'm so sorry I haven't been around much this summer. But it's just been crazy around here. _

_I WILL be finishing my other stories, but I just got this idea, and I had to go for it. _

_Reviews are very much appreciated, good and bad. Just tell me where to go from here. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Spoiler to episode - 5.16_**

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**Chapter 2**

**

* * *

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_May 5th, 1983_

Everything had gone perfectly, and now three days later – Mary and John were bringing home the newest addition to their family, their newest son Sam Winchester.

So far he'd been wonderful, Mary had to admit. He wasn't very fussy as Dean had been, instead he looked around at his surroundings almost curiously, making cute little baby squeals every once in a while.

John had been awfully quiet over the last few days. He would look down at his new son as he held them, and couldn't help but wonder what this one would change into.

It was driving him insane, and he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it. Mary had gone above and beyond for him by not being mad, and accepting what he had to say, no matter how far-fetched it sounded. But John wasn't sure he was able to live with this.

He loved his boys, but he wasn't sure he could live with his own guilt for condemning them to a life that was different from the other kids around them.

And they would be different, John realized sadly. He and Mary had Dean enrolled into a pretty good Kindergarten program, but now that he's realized his differences – could the risk him staying in school with other kids? Should they home-school him and his brother when he's old enough?

It wasn't like he could just force his children to not live their lives, though. Eventually they'd get out and meet people. Hell, maybe they'll find girls and begin to trust them so much that they entrust their secrets to them. What would John do then? Would he sit back and watch silently while his boys passed their curse on?

Would this curse ever end?

John would never say he regretted having children, because he didn't. Dean and Sam were great, and more than he could have ever hoped for as a father.

But their future scared the hell out of him, and he wasn't sure what he could do about it…if he could do anything at all.

Now John sat in his living room on his recliner chair with his feet propped up and a beer held lazily in his hands as his eyes tried to focus on the black and white program on the television.

Mary was upstairs with Sam getting the baby ready for his bath, while Dean was running around the house somewhere trying to be helpful probably.

Well, at least that's what John thought – until there was a sudden gentle tug on the sleeve of his shirt, trying to get his attention.

John's head turned sluggishly toward the gentle pressure and saw his very human looking eldest son looking up at him with big green eyes and a smile that could light a city block.

"What's up, champ?" John asked halfheartedly, keeping his eyes on Dean as he finally ceased his tugging.

"It's almost Sammy's bedtime." Dean informed matter-of-factly.

"It is…" John confirmed, not really understanding what Dean was getting at.

"We should go say goodnight to him, dad." Dean said hopefully.

John sighed as he looked over at the large clock hanging on the wall above the television. It was only seven-o-clock, definitely time for babies to sleep – although Dean's bedtime wasn't for another hour. He guessed he shouldn't upset Dean, and play along.

"Alright, is mommy done giving the baby a bath?" John asked Dean with a sleepy yawn.

"Almost," Dean informed him proudly, "I set out his pajamas for him on yours and mommy's bed so he can get dressed once he's all cleaned up."

"Good job, sport." John praised with a halfhearted smile as he pushed himself to his feet, and out of his chair.

Dean appreciated the kind words from his father happily, and led his father up the stairs to his and Mary's bedroom.

John couldn't have been more proud of Dean. He had really fallen into his role as the big brother. It almost seemed like second nature to him, like it was his job in life to make sure Sam was happy and taken care of.

It would be a crying shame when Dean grew up and made his own friends, leaving Sam behind to grow up for himself. After all, there was a four year distance between them – Dean and Sam probably wouldn't have the same group of friends.

Hell, maybe they would – John considered. Maybe they'd never grow apart, especially if John and Mary decided to home-school them.

John scooped Dean up into his arms as he headed up the stairs, skipping every other step. Dean giggled the entire ride up the stairs, and John couldn't help but smile at that sound. It was almost like nothing was different about him in that moment, and all he was, was a four year old boy going to see his little brother.

But once they were in John and Mary's bedroom, John placed Dean back down onto his feet as his eyes found his wife holding their newest son with a loving look in her eyes as she stared at the tiny bundle in her hands.

"Everything okay?" John wondered aloud as Dean kept trying to climb up on their bed to get a better look at his brother.

John made a quick grab for Dean as he tried to stand on the bed, and placed him back on the floor with a stern look.

"Don't do that, Dean. You could hurt yourself." John warned.

Dean blushed and whispered a soft apology as he resorted to trying to see Sam on his tippy toes. But his mother was still taller than him, so it wasn't really working.

Ignoring their exchange, Mary turned to John with a halfhearted chuckle. "Everything's fine, John. It's time to put Sammy to bed."

Nodding, John followed his wife and eldest son out of the room and down the hall to where Sam's nursery had been set up.

John stood in the threshold of the baby blue painted room, while Mary and Dean headed toward the crib in middle of the room.

Mary gently placed their child stomach down over the white blankets, and watched as he squirmed around for a moment, trying to get comfortable.

Dean continued to stand on his toes to try and see his brother, with his tiny hands wrapped around the bars of the crib. Mary and John's eldest son let out a small whimper, which sounded alarmingly animalistic – John noticed with wide eyes.

Mary didn't seem to notice, or she just didn't care as she lifted Dean up by his waist and lowered him into the crib with a smile on her face – never letting go of her son. Dean leaned into the crib, and gave Sam a tiny kiss goodnight on his forehead.

"G'night, Sammy!" Dean yipped excitedly as Mary hoisted her eldest son back out of the crib and on his feet on the hardwood floor.

Satisfied that he had finally been able to give his little brother a proper goodnight, Dean trotted off into the other room to go get himself ready for bed.

Mary looked down at Sam with a smile on her face before turning to John expectantly. "Well?"

"Well, what?" John asked, looking slightly confused.

"Aren't you going to say goodnight to your son, John?" Mary asked suddenly looking a little hurt and offended.

John looked at his wife, before glancing at the crib which contained his now fussing youngest child. He sighed at the little baby noises before creeping over to the crib.

Mary smiled at him with a reassuring nod, silently telling him that there was nothing wrong – and that everything would be okay.

John took in a deep steadying breath before he managed to bring himself to look down into the crib, at the other child he's probably condemned to a life far different from normal.

He looked down at his child, and instantly his throat constricted in fear as a coldness ran through his body causing his heart to hammer in his chest, which he felt all the way to his skull. In the crib wasn't the little baby he had just seen Mary place neatly, but a fussing, roaring black bear cub.

Instantly, John stumbled backwards taken aback until he hit the wall. His eyes instantly traveled to Mary who was looking at him with a smile on her suddenly wicked face.

"What's wrong, John?" Mary questioned sweetly.

**xXx**

John startled awake in a cold sweat, with his eyes wide and his breathing ragged. That dream had seemed so real, John thought to himself as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

He was still downstairs in the living room with the television on, sitting in his recliner chair. John looked at the clock, and saw that it just a little past one in the morning. He just fell asleep watching television, apparently.

Well, no more television before bed – he decided with a sigh as he reached for the remote on the table next to his chair, and turned the television off.

Instantly, the living room was ten times darker and all noises around him instantly died down till his ears started to ring from the sudden silence.

John continued to sit in his chair though, he made no move to get up to get up and go to his own bed with his wife. He couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed to think about what he was going to do.

He knew he couldn't break this curse, hell if it was doable wouldn't someone have done it by now?

It seemed his children were condemned, and it was all his fault.

What bothered John just as much though was that Mary didn't seem the least bit phased by any of this. He had told her that their children were freaks, and she didn't get the least bit upset. This in turn, made John upset. What could she possibly be thinking of him?

This was driving him insane, John thought to himself as he inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly to steady his shaking hands. He was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the moment.

Hell, his children could _change_ into _animals_! What use was that to anyone?

_If I wanted a couple of pets, I would have gotten 'em._

That harsh thought surfaced in John's mind before he had a moment to even process it. He instantly regretted it, even though he never said it out loud. He knew his mind was just a poisonous environment around his wife and children, no matter how strange they were.

And in that moment, John knew what he had to do – no matter how hard it would be, he knew it was right for him.

**xXx**

John gently nudged his wife awake with his soft hands, and a certain dread behind his eyes. Mary was beautiful and the most wonderful person he had ever known, she didn't deserve this.

Mary groaned and rolled over to face what was trying to force her to wake up. Her eyes slid open sluggishly, and after a moment of processing what was going on – she realized it was her husband, only he looked so distraught.

"What's up?" Mary asked sleepily, "Is it the baby?"

"No, Mary…Sam and Dean are fast asleep." John replied, his voice hitching as his emotions ran high.

Mary got a better look at her husband as she forced herself into a sitting position, and noticed he was fully dressed in his blue flannel, and brown leather jacket and jeans. But what caught her attention specifically was the suitcase he held in his hand, tightly.

"Where are you going?" Mary questioned, her eyes now lit up with worry.

John hesitated, looking absolutely miserable. How could he word this so she would understand? How could he just tell her that he was leaving her and their babies because he was a coward, but still loved them more than they would ever know?

He sighed deeply and just spit it out the best he could. "I'm gonna stay at The Pines for a couple of nights, Mare."

Mary's eyes widened as realization dawned on her. Her husband was leaving her and their children; he was just dumping them here and running.

"The motel? Why?" Mary demanded, her quivered with anger and overwhelming sadness.

"I can't do this, Mary." John admitted as his voice began to shake behind the effort of keeping his tears at bay, "I can't watch our boys grow up like this, only to have their kids go through the same fear I went through every day."

"You're kidding me, right?" Mary demanded, her anger now overweighing her sadness. "You're _afraid_? _That's_ why you're leaving?"

"This isn't easy." John informed her, his voice raising a little to try and drill what he was saying into her head, "I love you and the boys more than you think. _That's_ why I have to leave."

"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard." Mary spat, "You're a coward, that's why you're leaving."

"I'm leaving because I am afraid." John admitted, "I'm afraid, and you're not. I know I won't be as good a father to them as you are a mother."

"This isn't a competition, John!" Mary snapped, her voice raising to yelling levels. "We're raising two boys, here! As a team!"

"I can't, Mary." John said sadly, "I just can't…I'm so sorry."

And without another word, John turned out of the room with the suitcase in his hands and headed toward the stairs.

This really _was_ the hardest thing he's ever had to do, John thought to himself as his tears began to fall past his guard.

**xXx**

_June 15th, 1983_

Mary had been with her boys alone for over a month now. John would call every once in a while, when he wasn't completely drunk out of his mind. But for the most part, Mary had been alone.

It was hard at first, the morning after John left – Dean had woken up to find his dad gone, and didn't really know what to think about it. Sure he was upset, but it was clear that his mother was just as upset, if not more. So Dean did his best to try and make his mom feel better.

Dean took it upon himself to take care of Sam as much as possible. When his mom dozed off for a couple of minutes in the day, and the Baby Monitor starts going off – Dean would warm up a bottle and feed his little brother.

It didn't take Dean too long to figure out how to maneuver the bars of Sammy's crib, so he could get to his brother.

Dean had asked his mother once or twice why his dad was gone. But Mary would just say that he didn't understand how special he and Sam were.

He wasn't an idiot, Dean thought to himself. He knew he was different, he knew it the moment he had turned into an animal. His mom had later told him he was a fox, but he didn't really understand what it meant.

After he changed the first time, with that raging headache – he felt something weird inside him suddenly shift. And without having to be told about it, he knew that he could change into the fox whenever he wanted.

But he didn't. He knew it upset his parents the first time.

Mary was so grateful that Dean was so wonderful. She couldn't have asked for a better son.

Every once in a while that thought would cross her mind, and then her thoughts would wander to John. How could he be so afraid of children who are so wonderful? It made no sense.

Now, Mary was standing in the kitchen in the early afternoon making Dean his lunch – a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just something simple.

Dean was in his room playing with his little remote control racecar track by himself for a little while. He had just checked on Sammy, and was satisfied to see the baby was still napping.

He seemed to do a lot of that, Dean noticed. But his mom had explained to him when Sammy first came home that babies sleep a lot, so he guessed that wasn't too out of the ordinary.

A moment later, there was a gentle tapping on his door – pulling him from his thoughts. There, standing in the threshold of his bedroom stood his mom looking at him happily.

Dean smiled back, he liked seeing his mom happy – he knows it means he's done his job.

"Dean," She called sweetly, "How 'bout some lunch?"

Dean nodded as he got to his feet before putting down his remote control and trotted off after his mother down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, Dean took his usual seat at the table as his mother went to the counter and grabbed his sandwich, an empty glass, and a carton of milk.

Mary looked down at her son with the biggest smile. He sat at the table with a content little smile on his face as his tiny legs which barely touched the ground kicked back and forth.

She had gone shopping the other day, and bought this shirt for him she thought would be adorable. She was right.

He was wearing it now, and it was the cutest thing. On the shirt was a little bear with writing beneath it reading, "I Wuv Hugs".

Corny as it may be, she could still get away with buying him these ridiculously adorable outfits and he would wear them without saying a word.

But to spare him at least a little dignity, she allowed him to put on his black and white plaid flannel on top of the shirt.

Mary placed the sandwich and the empty glass in front of Dean, once she had a bit more room with her hands, she popped open the carton of milk, and poured some into the glass.

When she decided his glass was full enough, her eyes caught her sons' with her smile still intact. "Do you want the crusts cut off?"

"Yeah, I'd love that." Dean agreed with a jerky nod.

Mary put the carton of milk down on the table, and lifted the butter knife, and began to carve the dark crusts off her sons' white bread sandwich.

Once all four edges were off, she patted her sons' head, and walked back over to the counter to warm up a bottle for Sam. He should be waking up from his nap soon.

To her surprise, the chorded phone on the kitchen wall began to ring. She glanced at her son to make sure he was eating peacefully before she answered the phone, holding it to her ear. She already had a feeling who this might be.

"Hello?" She answered, tiredly.

"Come on, Mary – I need to talk to you." John pleaded.

Mary sighed deeply, she could hear the drunken slur in his voice. She didn't want to talk with him when he was like this.

"No John." Mary said flatly, "I'm not having this conversation again with you."

"Please, I'm sorry – I just needed time to think!" John practically begged.

She could hear the tears in his voice, but she forced herself not to get emotional. Not in front of her son.

"Think about what?" Mary demanded in a harsh whisper, "You have two boys at home."

"It's just so hard, I couldn't handle it – I still don't know if I can…" John's voice trailed off, as his throat constricted while he tried to hold back his tears.

"Fine, then don't." Mary interjected, knowing he wasn't finished talking, "There's nothing more to talk about."

And with that, she slammed the phone down on the receiver – hanging up on her husband's drunken rambling.

Mary put her hands on the counter, to support her upper body as she sagged a little with a deep sigh. She didn't want to break down in front of Dean, she couldn't.

But suddenly he was at her side with his big green eyes looking up at her seriously. She looked down at him and gasped as he caught a lone tear slide down her cheek.

Without even thinking about it, Dean leaned in and gave his mother the biggest hug he could muster.

"It's okay, mom." Dean assured her with deep sincerity, "Dad still loves you. I love you, too…I'll never leave you."

Mary returned the hug, with a sigh. Dean was so good, almost too good. How could she possibly be so lucky to have such a child?

When they pulled away, she caressed his cheek with a loving smile on her face. "You are my little angel."

Dean didn't say anything; he only smiled back at his mom as she quickly gathered herself.

She sniffled for a moment, and asked in an attempt to get off the subject – "How 'bout some pie?"

Dean nodded at the idea of the sweet treat, knowing his mother had just baked a blueberry pie just last night.

Mary nodded, and turned away from Dean as she busied herself getting Dean a slice of pie, and warming up Sam's bottle.

Despite John walking out on her and her sons, Mary had to admit – she was probably one of the luckiest people in the world.

* * *

_Anyone see where I went with this? Haha. _

_Sorry this chapter was pretty dull, but it's important in the long run - I swear. _

_And also - I know, that John was supposedly gone for 'a couple of days', but I decided to prolong that just to add to the angst. Ugh. Haha._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Spoiler - 1.01**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**

* * *

**

Only a few days later, Mary and John got together where John was staying and decided to talk about what exactly was bothering John about the boys.

Mary went on and told John with tears in her eyes how their eldest son – who is still only four years old – felt the need to play 'man of the house' since he moved out. Dean was missing his chance to be a kid, because John couldn't get himself together.

They talked for what seemed like forever, until John decided to go back home and try again – of course, under a few conditions, per Mary's request.

One, John wouldn't be moving back in just yet. To start off, he only has visitation rights. If things don't work out, she doesn't want it to be a messy good-bye with baggage and luggage.

Two, he had to call before coming over. She didn't think it wise for him to just come over unannounced whenever he feels like.

And three, if John brings one drink into the house – or comes over even slightly less than sober – Mary promised to pull the plug on the whole thing, and file for divorce.

Without even having to think about it, John agreed to these terms.

Time passed, and on August first John moved back into the house with his sons and his wife. He was still terrified of his children's future, but decided he would have to cross that bridge when they got to it.

After all, he didn't even know what Sam would become yet.

The thought sent a shudder through his spine. He knew how unnatural this was, but these were his boys – and he made a promise to Mary to try and deal with it.

Dean had been excited when John moved back in; he never hinted that he ever resented the workload that he put upon himself after his father left. But he sure did seem relieved once his father returned and reclaimed his fatherly duties again.

And for that while, they were a family again. It was everything Mary had been running towards when she decided hunting wasn't the path she wanted to take in life.

They fell into normal everyday routines, and played their own roles around the house like a normal family. John would go to work at the Garage in the morning, while Mary was a stay-at-home wife. She cooked, and cleaned, and cared for their children during the day, and when John came home in the early evening, a freshly cooked dinner would be sitting in the oven waiting for him to arrive.

It was perfect.

It was normal.

It was safe.

**xXx**

_November 2nd, 1983_

Once the sun had sunk, and the dark night sky bled overhead – Mary had gone about her daily routine as usual.

She would sit Dean in the tub, and give him a bath and once he was finished and cleaned, she gave little Sammy his sink bath.

Once Sam was clean, and dressed – she placed him down in his crib on his back, so she clearly saw the smiling giggling baby looking up at her.

Mary smiled down at her youngest son with a loving spark in her eye. She could already tell this kid was going to be something special.

"Okay, Sammy – I'm gonna go bring Dean in here." Mary announced in a gentle whisper as she backed out of the room slowly. The only response she got was the sounds of Sam's squeaking baby giggles.

Mary sighed as she headed down the hall towards Dean room in a steady pace. Upon reaching his door, she gently nudged it open to see her eldest son sitting on the edge of his bed in his pajamas waiting for her to put him to bed.

"Come here, baby." Mary requested pleasantly.

Dean nodded feverishly as he hopped off of his bed and ran toward his mother excitedly. She bent down and met him when he was close enough, and scooped him up into her arms.

With Dean secure in her arms, Mary walked back over towards Sam's nursery.

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother." Mary said to Dean with a vibrant smile placed on her face.

She holds Dean, as she leans him into the crib where Dean can see his brother better. Dean kisses the giggling baby's forehead with a clear, "Goodnight, Sam."

Satisfied, Mary puts Dean down on his own two feet on the floor before she leans in to kiss Sam's forehead for herself, "Goodnight, love."

When Mary stands upright, she turns around to see John standing in the doorway with a pleasant smile on his face as he looks down at Dean.

"Hey Dean." John greets happily.

"Daddy!" Dean cried excitedly as he ran toward his father.

John instantly leaned over, and caught his son and hoisted up into his arms – his smile never faltering.

"Hey Buddy! What do you think?" Maneuvering Dean in his arms so he can catch another glimpse of Sam, "You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

"No Daddy." Dean replied with a slight eye-roll.

"No?" John questioned, completely joking.

Mary chuckled visibly as she walked over toward her husband holding their son.

"You got him?" She questioned seriously, wondering if John was willing to put Dean to bed.

"I got him." John confirmed, still smiling.

And this was how it was almost every night. John had resumed his role as the father; Dean was just a child – and Sam's big brother. And Mary was back to just being the mother, and not having to carry all the weight herself.

**xXx**

It had all happened so fast, John thought to himself as he stood outside in the cold November air holding his youngest son in a bundled up wrap, while his eldest stood at his side. John sat on the hood of his sleek black 67 Chevy Impala, and watched with his children as the firefighters continued to attempt to save what was left of their house.

John had been downstairs sleeping in his chair when he suddenly heard Mary scream. He had ran upstairs, and instantly went for Sam's nursery. At first he found nothing but his giggling son looking up at him.

But when he looked up, he remembered his heart stopping cold in his chest upon seeing his beautiful wife pinned to the ceiling, a deep red stain spreading over her white nightgown. He didn't need to be told it was her blood.

He called out for her, wondering if this was some sick crazy nightmare – but instantly realized the moment her body suddenly combusted, igniting the entire nursery in hellfire that it was very real.

John made a grab for his crying baby, and made a run for Dean's room – only to see his eldest standing in the hallway with a sleepy glaze in his eyes. John passed Sammy off to Dean, and ordered him to take his brother outside, and don't look back.

Dean didn't need to be told twice, and instantly made a break for the front door with his little brother in his arms.

John on the other hand fought his way back to the nursery to try and find Mary, praying she was still alive.

There was no hope for her, John soon discovered. She was dead, and _something_ had killed her. Something that wasn't natural.

Now John and his children watched as their neighbors began to walk out of their houses toward the sidewalks to get a better look at the burning house. So many people crowded around like vultures to witness the worst night of John Winchester's life.

Oh well, it wasn't like he would ever see these people again – John thought to himself darkly. He was going to get revenge. The thing that killed his Mary was running around out there unchecked, and John swore in that moment that he would track it down and kill it.

And all the while, he would raise his sons to fight alongside of him…they would learn what he knows about self defense, and be able to protect themselves so _this_ never happens to them again.

**xXx**

For the remainder of the night, after John had finished answering the Sheriff's probing questions about the fire – he moved his sons into some ratty motel room just outside of town with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

He figured once he was rested, he would go into town and gather clothes for himself and his children. But for now, they all needed rest. They'd been through so much in just a little amount of time.

Dean hadn't said anything at all. The usually chatty four-year-old was silent and reserved for the rest of the night. John would give him simple orders, and Dean would simply nod.

The small family was grieving; they had all suffered such a terrible loss. Even Sammy seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn, as if he understood what had just happened.

That night, John bought out a room with two beds. He figured Sam would share a bed with him, since he knew no motel came equipped with a crib.

Tonight would be a hard one, John knew. But tomorrow would be worse. Tomorrow he knew he and Dean would wake up to find that tonight wasn't a dream. Mary was dead.

And all he had left was finding her killer, and making him pay.

John felt sorry for his sons; he couldn't decide who to feel worse for. Once he knew what was going on, he would let his sons know – and teach them how to protect themselves. Dean would never again know the normalcy of life, and Sam never know it at all.

It was a depressing thought, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made.

But first, they had to get through tonight – John thought to himself as he laid himself down on his springy stinky motel bed, and getting under the covers. Sammy lay close to his side above the covers, kicking his little feet as if trying to kick his way out of his footy pajamas.

John pulled his youngest son close, and made a silent promise to Mary that he would never ever abandon his children as he had before. They were his now, completely, one hundred percent. And nothing would ever change that.

Not even the curse, John thought to himself as he eyed the baby at his side curiously.

* * *

_Sorry this chapter seems so rushed - and that it's much shorter than the last 2 chapters. But I didn't want to bore you guys with stuff we already know from the Pilot, so I kinda skipped ahead in some places. :\_

_Chapter 4 should be longer, and full of some other goodies. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**

* * *

**

_June 3rd, 1987_

_"It's been a little over a month since Sam's 4th birthday. He hasn't changed into any kind of animal yet. Maybe I was wrong about this. After all, I'm the only one to ever have two kids since this curse was placed on my family. Maybe Sam won't change into anything. _

_"Dean on the other hand hasn't been changing all that much. Sometimes when we're on a hunt, I'll ask him to use his 'other' nose for a keener sense of smell. But other than that, he could pass for full-time human being. _

_"The other night I asked him if it hurts him to shift. He said it doesn't, and I believe him. Watching him change shape as my father had was like magic. One minute he's my eight year old human son, and the next, he's a little Red Fox._

_"I still don't know how I feel about this curse on my son, but I'm trying to work my way around it. I'm not who I used to be though, that's for sure. I won't run and hide from my boy, no matter how strange he may be. _

_"I have to wonder though, why a fox? I know the curse gives the victim the ability to change into their 'Animal Spirit', but what in his personality signifies that he's a fox? I'll look into it more."_

John closed his journal and put his pen down when he heard his two sons suddenly yelling at each other, and from the sounds of it – they were both pretty angry.

He sighed as he got up from the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of the rickety old desk, and headed toward the front door quickly. John grasped the doorknob, and yanked the front door open to see Sam and Dean standing in front of the Impala in the middle of a screaming match.

Dean had his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, while Sam stood before him empty handed waving his arms around to emphasize his anger.

"NO!" Sam yelled stubbornly, "I'm not unloading the car!"

"Dad said you have to, Sammy!" Dean countered, his eyes narrowing at his little brother.

"WHY?"

"Because this is where we're staying for the week!" Dean explained with an eye-roll, "Now get your butt in the room, we got stuff we gotta do."

Sam huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest with a defiant glare in his eyes. Dean growled at his brother the way the fox did in its form.

Deciding it was time to break this up; John cleared his throat loudly – earning him a startled glare from both of his sons. Sam didn't know about Dean, so he figured he'd spare him from doing something he'd regret, like shifting in front of his brother.

"Dean, get in the room son. I'll deal with Sam." John ordered.

"Yes, sir." Dean muttered as he walked past his father and into the room without another word.

John turned his attention to his four-year-old son, who seemed to shrink under his glare. Sam's wide blue-green puppy-dog-eyes softened and turned slightly fearful toward his father.

"I'll get your stuff this once, Sam." John reasoned with a sigh, "But this is the last time, son. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Sam murmured almost inaudibly.

"Good." John replied seeming a bit more satisfied, "Because I mean it. Next time you fight with your brother about doing something I asked you to do, I'm not gonna do it, and your brother's not gonna do it – and I'll lock the car door so you can't get to your stuff for the night. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, dad. Sorry." Sam replied in almost as whisper as he shuffled his way into the room after his brother.

This wasn't really like Sam, John thought to himself as he hoisted Sam's dark green duffle bag out of the open trunk, before flipping it shut.

Sam was usually pretty reserved, a lot less chatty than Dean had been at that age. But Sam wouldn't fight with anyone, especially Dean.

Over the years, Sam and Dean had become inseparable. When John would leave for a hunt, he would leave Sam and Dean behind in some dingy motel room with a babysitter – much to Dean's protest.

But John did know that Sam hated to move around so much. The kid didn't even have a reason; he just followed his family around the country. John figured Sam was still too young to know what he's really doing. Dean knows, so he just tells Sam that dad 'sells stuff'. It's vague, but the four-year-old doesn't ask questions.

Usually, Sam's content with just a bowl of Lucky Charms, and an episode of _'Thundercats'_. Today was probably just one of those days, John thought to himself tiredly. Maybe Sam just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

John carried Sam's bags in the motel room, and dropped them by the front door where he and Dean had dropped their bags.

He straightened himself up, and noticed that Dean and Sam were sitting on opposite sides of the spare bed, talking gently. Sam had probably apologized by the now half quirked smile on Dean's face.

John gave his sons a pointed look and sighed. "I gotta head into town; I left a number on the nightstand where I can be reached if it's an absolute emergency."

"Why do you have to go into town?" Dean prodded curiously, his voice serious.

"Business." John assured vaguely, his eyes falling on Sam who was looking back and forth between Dean and John curiously, "The maids have been informed…the older one named Stacy is going to come in a little later just to check up on you guys."

_"Dad!"_ Dean groaned in disapproval, "I'm not stupid, and I'm not a kid – we don't need a babysitter."

"I know son…" John replied calmly, "that's why she's not sticking around. She's just gonna poke her head in every once in a while to make sure you guys are alight…and when she does, I expect everything to be in top shape here. As in…don't leave anything out in the open that'll draw unnecessary attention."

Dean nodded silently in understanding, in other words – hide the guns and the knives, or anything else that you wouldn't find in a normal room full of children.

John patted the top of Dean's head as he passed his son to get to his bed. He quickly reached beneath his pillow, and while Sam's eyes were on Dean – John quickly hid his .45 in his leather jacket.

In truth, John wasn't exactly going into town. Sure he had to pass the town to get where he was really going, but somehow he didn't think that'd sit too well with Dean if he told him he was going to his friends house to learn more about hunting.

There was still so much John had to know about hunting and tracking, and putting together omens. Sure he knew enough to keep him alive against say a werewolf, but he was nowhere near experienced enough to face the thing that killed his wife…no, that was big game.

And somehow, John didn't think Dean would take too kindly to his father telling him that. No, the kid clearly looked up to him, and trusted him with his life. His father was a hero in Dean's eyes.

So all John was trying to do was prove Dean right, by visiting his friend Daniel Elkins. Daniel has taught John so much already, they've been friends for a couple of years and once Elkins learned of what happened to Mary, he decided to help John in his quest for revenge.

Daniel had referred John to some other hunters who could help him out a bit too. John of course jumped on the opportunity and met up with these other people. Some of the people Daniel had recommended were washed up old guys who had been retired from the game for quite some time.

But others like Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim became trustworthy quickly. John had gone on a couple of hunting trips with Bobby, and Jim – and they both seemed to know what they were doing when it came to these things.

John still needed a bit more training and guidance, he's only been a hunter for four years – and in that world, that's not a very long time at all.

"You know the drill," John said to Dean in a serious tone, "Salt the doors and the windows…"

"Lock the doors and windows, don't answer the phone unless it rings once first, shoot first – ask questions later, and watch out for Sammy." Dean finished sounding almost bored, "I got it, dad."

"Good." John remarked with an approving nod, "Please try not to freak Stacy out too much."

"I'll try." Dean promised with a small shrug.

Accepting Dean's words, John walked over toward his youngest son who was still perched on the edge of the bed, looking up at him.

"I'll be home sometime tonight." John promised his sons.

He drew Sam in for a tight embrace before walking out the front door and closing it behind him, leaving his sons alone in their dingy motel room.

**xXx**

_January 25th, 1988_

_Dean just turned nine yesterday, for his birthday I took him out shooting. He bulls-eyed every single bottle I put on that fence. It was pretty impressive. _

_What got to me though, was last night when we got back to the room – Dean asked if I would care if he 'changed'. I had to think about it, he's never asked me that before. But after a while I told him it was okay. I didn't know if not changing after a while is uncomfortable or not…but he hasn't changed in at least two months, so I didn't want to chance it. _

_On the subject, Sam learned last night of his brothers' 'condition'. He didn't take it bad; he said that he always knew Dean was a little different – because not most people bark in their sleep. _

_That's new to me; Dean started barking in his sleep about a month ago. He doesn't do it every night, but when he does it's pretty loud. Definitely loud enough to wake Sammy and I from a dead sleep, anyways. _

_But I think it's tied to how often he shifts…or doesn't shift. He hasn't changed in about two months as I've said, so maybe his body's starved of it or something. Because last night was blissfully silent. _

_Now I have to wonder about Sammy. Should I rule out the curse, now? His 5th birthday is in a little less than 4 months, and he still hasn't changed. Should I just assume that the curse skipped him? _

_We'll have to see. _

**xXx**

It was the day after Dean's birthday, and their dad had just gone out to hunt some poltergeist, leaving Sam and Dean alone in their motel room again.

Dean didn't mind watching his brother, he just hated that they had to be cooped up in that room. Now though, it was a bit more frustrating.

Last night, he decided it was time to trust Sam with his ability. He changed his shape for his little brother, and let him know that it was still him by playing 'cute little animal'.

Sam took it rather well. At first, it was definitely a shock. When Dean told him he had to tell him a secret, he didn't think that meant he could turn into a fox.

So Sam stood in place with his mouth agape as the Red Fox twirled around for a minute like it was trying to chase its fluffy tail. Their dad was there with them, assuring Sam that it was okay – that Dean is still Dean no matter how he looks.

After a while of sorting through his mind, the four year old started to try and play with the fox.

Relieved beyond belief, Dean didn't even protest. He just ran around the motel room with his little brother with giddy excitement, while their father watched with a shadow of a smile hinted on his face.

So now, Sam asked Dean to change again. Except this time he didn't seem to be in a playful mood. Dean figured Sam just wanted to observe him, now.

Well, not wanting to be a part of Sam's science project or whatever, Dean refused – and trotted off to his bed to skim through an outdated Motorcycle Magazine.

Sam gave Dean the biggest 'bitch face' he could muster, before going off to watch television. Maybe there'd be something good on.

After about an hour of watching mindless cartoons, a throbbing headache started to form behind Sam's eyes. He sighed, and rubbed absently at his temples.

Dean looked up from his magazine and noticed Sam in his seat, rubbing at his forehead clearly in pain. "You need something?"

"No." Sam murmured, "I just need a nap."

"A nap?" Dean questioned with a quirked eyebrow, "You just woke up about two hours ago, Sammy."

"I dunno, Dean." Sam whined, finally looking up at his brother with shiny unshed tears in his eyes.

"I got some Tylenol in my bag." Dean announced as he got up off his bed, and headed toward the pile by the door where he left his bags.

"N-no." Sam stammered in a whisper, "I-I don't think I n-need it."

"You're crazy, Sam." Dean replied with an eye-roll as he turned around to give his brother a pointed look.

To Dean's horror, in a matter of seconds – Sam slunk out of his seat and onto his knees down on the puke green carpeted floor. Tears streamed from his eyes, as the pain in his head became blinding.

"Sammy!" Dean called frantically, forgetting about the Tylenol to run to his brothers' side. He dug his blunt fingernails into Sam's shoulder to hold him steady, and keeping him from landing a face-plant on the ground as Sam began to sway back and forth dizzily.

And then suddenly, it was the strangest thing…

Dean's fingers continued to dig into Sam's shoulder, as if anchoring the kid down – until the shoulder was gone, and his fingers wrapped into a fist with Sam's shirt the kid was just wearing in his hands.

It took Dean a moment to realize what just happened as he saw a tiny mass shuffle beneath Sam's clothes he had _just_ been wearing a second ago.

Oh God, Dean thought to himself in a panic. He released Sam's shirt, and moved it aside along with the pants and underpants to reveal something Dean had _not_ been expecting.

Dean's eyes widened and his breath held still in his lungs as he watched the black cub look up at him with the most foreign looking green-eyed stare he'd ever seen.

What _was_ this thing?

Obviously it was Sam, Dean thought to himself. It turned out his brother was like him after all…he was just something else.

"W-what the hell are you, Sammy?" Dean asked in a tiny voice.

The black cub that came up to Dean's knees yowled, sending a chill up his spine. But still he got closer to examine what it was.

It's a cat; Dean realized when he got close enough – a panther, if he wasn't mistaken.

"I-I think you're a panther, dude." Dean announced, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

Sam looked up at him with those creepy green eyes with the vertical pupils cutting them in half, making the cat look wild. Dean tried not to focus on that, but instead remembered the _he_ was _himself_ when he changed, so of course this is still Sammy.

Poor Sammy must be freaking out, Dean thought to himself tiredly as he forced a smile to his face. "It's alright, Sam. You're fine."

The cub laid its ears back against his skull and flicked his whiskers forward. Dean wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but if he had to guess – he'd say the panther looked scared.

"Don't be scared." Dean assured his brother soothingly, "Dad and I should have told you that this could have happened to you too."

Sam instantly relaxed as his left rounded ear quirked toward his brother curiously.

"You're gonna be just fine, dude." Dean said with a relaxed grin on his face as he reached out and ruffled the thick fur on top of the little black cub.

Actually, truth be told – Dean wasn't entirely sure how their father would react. He wasn't an idiot. Dean knew his father was a little apprehensive around him whenever he did something 'out of the norm'. That's why he hadn't bothered shifting for about two months.

But the itch under his skin became difficult to ignore last night, so he asked permission to change. His father hesitantly agreed, but he had to think about it first.

Dean saw how relieved their dad was when Sam didn't change on his birthday. He had hoped Sam would be normal too, that way their dad would have at least one son he could completely accept.

But as it turns out, Sam is like him after all.

Dean couldn't help but wonder how their father would react when he got home.

* * *

_I swear there's a plot here somewhere, haha. Just bear with me for a bit! _

_Reviews good and bad are welcome! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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_January 26th, 1988_

John returned to the motel room in the wee early hours of the morning, before the sun was even up. He was off taking care of some poltergeist which had been giving this family grief for some time now. It even went so far as to attack the youngest son, who was only seven years old.

It was long and grueling work, but he knew that those people would be able to go back to their home and feel safe because of him.

So in the end, it was worth it.

John did feel bad about being gone for so long. He hated being away from his boys for so long. They were still growing up, and already they were getting used to not having him around.

It was heartbreaking, John thought to himself. He didn't want his relationship with his sons to be like that. He wanted them to know that he loved them. With a lifestyle like this, any day could be your last. He just wanted his sons to know that no matter what may happen to him, he still loved them.

Upon entering the motel room, his eyes instinctively scanned the room before closing the door behind him. He was surprised to see Dean sitting on his bed wide awake, looking up at John with apprehension clear on his face.

Instantly, John looked over toward the other bed where Sammy lay sleeping soundly, his brown mop of hair covering his face.

"Something wrong, Dean?" John prodded nervously. He hoped Sam wasn't sick or something.

Dean cleared his throat, and automatically John knew this was going to be a conversation Dean didn't want to have. His eldest then stood from his bed, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking uncomfortable.

"You think we can take this outside?" Dean asked as he eyed Sam for a quick minute before turning his gaze back toward his father.

John sighed, and opened the door for his son as Dean strolled out in front of his father. John followed wordlessly and closed the door behind him. The cool night air welcomed him with a gentle gust, causing him to shiver as he faced Dean curiously.

"What's this about?" John demanded, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

"It's about Sammy." Dean admitted, not looking his father in the eye.

"What about Sammy?" John prodded a little nervously.

Dean cleared his throat again, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"D-dad…Sammy changed." Dean spat out, keeping his eyes down toward his boots avoiding his fathers' eyes like the plague.

The air rushed out of John's lungs at Dean's words, and a sense of disappointment swelled in him. He loved Dean, he loved Dean exactly the way he was, but he was so relieved when Sam hadn't turned into anything on his fourth birthday. He thought he had, had at least one normal son.

John scrubbed his hands over his face and looked down at Dean with saddened eyes. "What did he change into?"

Upon hearing his fathers' steady voice, Dean chanced a glance up at the man without making eye contact.

"A uh…a-a panther, I think." Dean replied hesitantly.

"A panther?" John questioned, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"Y-yeah." Dean confirmed, "It was weird, he went to go watch TV, and then started holding his head like he had a headache. I went to go get the Tylenol, but he just collapsed to the floor and changed. It all kinda happened so fast."

John suppressed a chuckle. He wasn't sure if Dean remembered when he first changed or not, but that was exactly what happened with him for Dean's first time.

"How is he, now?" John asked after releasing a deep breath, desperately trying to keep his nerves under control.

"He's asleep." Dean assured with a quick nod, "I got him to change back a little while ago, and then he just went to bed."

Good, John thought to himself with a deep sigh. It was best for Sammy to get his rest. These last two days must have been really weird for him. First he finds out his brother can change into a fox, and then the next day he finds _he _can change into a friggin' cat? A _panther_, no less!

A headache was forming behind John's eyes, but he refused to falter in front of Dean. Instead he cleared his throat, and nodded at Dean in approval.

"You did good, son." John assured as he placed a gentle hand on his sons' shoulder.

Dean finally looked up and made eye contact. He hadn't expected his father to be so calm. He knew his father didn't approve of their ability, he could see it in his eyes whenever the topic of discussion was brought up. He looked even less thrilled whenever he saw Dean in that other form.

So Dean hid what he could do from his father as often as possible, only asking to change when the itch beneath his skin reached pins and needles level and he couldn't suppress it anymore.

John gave one final sigh before removing his hand from Dean's shoulder, and turning to go back inside. He opened the door, and stepped aside as he let Dean enter first. Dean scurried to his own bed quickly, with his eyes now fixed on Sam curiously.

The kid was obviously fast asleep, it was apparent from his heavy breathing John noticed as he entered the warm motel room, before closing the door and locking it.

**xXx**

_January 26th, 1988_

_I was wrong, Sam is like Dean. A panther._

**xXx**

_February 12th, 1988_

_I think Dean probably told Sam not to change that often in front of me. It's been a month since Dean told me about Sam, and I've only today just seen him in his other form. _

_Dean wasn't kidding; Sam's definitely a black panther. I just don't really understand why yet, though._

_Dean on the other hand, I think I understand a little more. I did some research yesterday on Red Fox Character Traits, and found a few likenesses that cleared things up a bit for me. _

_Apparently, Red Fox's are basically nomads. They go from place to place, never staying in one spot for too long…and they're protective. As in…they'll fight to the death to protect what's theirs. _

_I definitely see that a lot when I see Dean with Sam. There's not a doubt in my mind that Dean would kill anyone who tried to hurt his little brother. _

_I couldn't be more proud, to tell the truth. _

_Tomorrow I'm hunting a Ghoul in Idaho that's been raising some hell for the locals. Hopefully, it won't be a problem much longer. _

**xXx**

For a few months since Sam's first change, things have been rather quiet for the boys. They were still dragged around all over the country by their father while he hunted things, and trained Dean on the side – but for the most part, things were good. Awkward, but good.

Things with the Winchester's were awkward because Sam had developed this new habit where he doesn't talk very often in front of their father. He answers in one word sentences if at all whenever his father talks to him directly and almost never makes eye contact.

John couldn't understand where this was coming from, or why Sam decided this was acceptable behavior. But the kid was beginning to grind his nerves.

Dean on the other hand seemed to be caught in the middle of whatever this was. Sam had no problem talking to him about anything. But he never answered whenever Dean asked why Sam wasn't talking to their dad.

John went out on a routine salt and burn job, leaving Sam alone with Dean again. Dean sat at the table in the kitchenette area, while Sam sat on the end of his bed watching some cartoon, paying very little attention.

Dean figured he would get it out of his brother today. There had to be some reason he wasn't talking to their father. What had their father done to piss this kid off so bad?

"Hey, Sam..?" Dean began curiously, his green eyes piercing the side of his brothers' head.

Sam turned his head to look at his brother with a quirked eyebrow, his blue-green eyes glaring right back at Dean.

"Can you please tell me why you don't talk around dad, anymore?" Dean asked, it almost sounded like he was begging, but he hoped Sam hadn't caught that.

Without a word, Sam shrugged his shoulders and turned his head back toward the television – again, not letting himself get consumed in the program.

"This is so stupid, Sammy!" Dean exploded suddenly, as he stood from his chair to quick it tipped back behind him, "I don't get it, where the heck did this whole silent-treatment thing come from?"

"I dunno." Sam murmured with his head ducked down in submission. Whatever reply Dean had been expecting, this sure wasn't it.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean demanded as he approached his brother slowly.

"It's just he looks at me funny, now." Sam said with burning shining tears in his eyes as he finally looked up at Dean, "He never used to look at my so funny when he thought I was normal."

He wasn't lying, Dean knew. He had seen the look, himself. Their father would send Sam the most judging, pitying looks these days – it nearly broke Dean's heart. But when their dad saw Sammy in his other form, he'd stare at the panther cub as if he were some intruder, or interloper at a party he wasn't invited to.

Sam was pretty young though, so Dean was surprised the kid had noticed as well. But then again, Sammy was pretty smart for his age – Dean had to give him that. If he was this smart now, he'll probably be a friggin' genius when he grows up, Dean thought to himself.

"Look Sammy," Dean began before taking in a deep breath to steady himself and to give his mind a moment to think of the proper words, "You shouldn't sweat it, kiddo. Dad's doing his best to bring us up as normally as possible. It's just a bit hard, because you and I _are_ different."

"Well then I don't wanna be different." Sam muttered matter-of-factly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Come on Sammy," Dean replied with a fake quirky smile plastered over his face as he made it to his brothers' side and placing a comforting hand on the kids' shoulder, "being different isn't so bad. I mean, I'm different too!"

"I know you are Dean," Sam said in understanding as his eyes glanced upwards to catch Dean's glare, "but it's just you and me…we're the only ones with this…curse, or whatever."

Dean didn't really agree with their father in calling his ability a 'curse'. It felt right to him when he changed, natural. It was like the fox is there all the time, just beneath his skin whispering into his mind to let him out for a little bit. But it doesn't feel evil.

He thinks his father has so much fear towards this power because he doesn't understand it. He himself will never know what it's like to be out of your body, and let something else – something more primal take over every once in a while.

Though it wasn't like being possessed, or what Dean imagined being possessed would be like. It's more like having tiny bits of what already makes you, you – crank up until all pretenses drop, and you're just…free.

He would never tell his dad any of this, of course. If John ever knew how Dean truly felt about being so different, he'd be the black sheep of their tiny fractured family. And Dean so desperately wanted their fathers' approval.

But at the same time, being his own animal was beautiful - Dean thought to himself sadly as he looked down at his brother. But Sam was still so young; he didn't really understand yet what this meant. Maybe he would turn around on the subject some day.

**xXx**

John returned hours later into the late evening with a limp that didn't escape Dean's notice. His father immediately shook him off, assuring him it was only a bruise from when the spirit chucked him into a tombstone.

Of course Dean didn't stop worrying, but he knew better than to hound his father about his injuries. That would only annoy John.

Sam sat on the end of the bed with a bag of chips in his hands as his eyes never left the television. Dean had put a movie on for him a little while ago, and Sammy hasn't moved since.

John went to the bathroom to wash himself up and put on fresh clothes, before he would talk to Dean. Every night when he would come home to his children, he would get a status report from Dean about how things went while he was away. He had hoped tonight wasn't anything bad, because his legs were killing him, and his chest hurt from when he got the wind knocked out of him by the spirit.

When John reentered the room wearing his nighttime sweats, he turned to his eldest son with a quirked eyebrow and an expectant look in his eyes.

"Any trouble, tonight?" John asked casually.

Dean spared a quick glance toward his brother who was still consumed with the television, and didn't seem to pay Dean or their father any mind. He then looked up at his father, and shrugged.

"Well, I had a talk with Sammy." Dean admitted in a low whisper so Sammy wouldn't hear, "He said he's been ignoring you because he thinks you look at him funny."

"What?" John asked in disbelief, "I do not look at him weird."

"He said you've been looking at him differently ever since he changed." Dean clarified sadly, "He doesn't like being looked at like he's different."

John hadn't thought that his feelings were translating to his face when he looked at his children. Sure, he wasn't entirely happy about their predicament, but he didn't love them any less.

Instead of arguing, John nodded jerkily more to himself than to his son. He would have to work on body language a little more. He didn't want Dean or Sam to think he hated them or something horrible like that.

Starting tomorrow, John promised himself that things would be better. He would mend his and Sammy's relationship, and everything would be okay.

He _hoped_, everything would be okay, anyways…

* * *

_I know, I know - this one's pretty dull and dicey. But I had an english paper to write, so I admit I wasn't all here. :\_

_The next chapter will have a little bit more, though unfortunately it'll be a little shorter. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

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_January 3rd, 1992_

Dean couldn't help but be a little fearful toward his brother at the moment. Every once in a while the fear would translate to his face every time he would turn to spare Sam a sideways glance, but thankfully the kid would ignore it.

His eight year old little brother had taken to passing his time – not by watching television like normal kids his age, but by reading as much as he could in his fathers' journal hungrily. He hadn't read any of the passages about him or Dean, because he wasn't sure if that was a line he was willing to cross. His father would already be furious that he knew the truth about what he does now – he didn't need to be mad about his youngest son intruding on his personal thoughts.

So Sam sat on his bed reading about the creatures their father had faced alone. He couldn't help but feel bad that most of the time their father didn't have any back up. Sometimes he had Uncle Bobby, or Pastor Jim – but not all the time.

Sam had told Dean on Christmas Eve that he knew the truth about what their father really does when he's away for so long. Dean wasn't too thrilled, but he told Sam the truth after being basically cornered.

The kid was just too smart for his own good.

Truthfully, Dean was absolutely terrified. It wasn't of anything Sam may find out or anything, but it was about their father. Sam wouldn't just stand idly by pretending he didn't know anything when he came home, and they both know it.

Sam would tell their father that he discovered the truth, and then John would blame Dean. It would then turn into a huge debate.

Dean knew it was probably wrong to keep Sam in the dark for so long. Hell, he knew what their father really did from the jump. But he just wanted Sammy to be as normal as possible; he wanted him to be a kid for just a little bit longer.

Sam though didn't seem to be willing to let this go. He hadn't spoken much to Dean since then. He would talk to Dean, sure – it wasn't like he was giving his brother the cold shoulder. But he was completely consumed in that journal.

Dean just wished Sam would pull his nose out of that book and come up for air. He missed just hanging out with his brother.

But when Sam finally did put the journal down, it wasn't because he wanted to hang out, unfortunately.

Dean heard the slamming of the now closed journal on the nightstand separating their beds. He instantly looked up at his little brother with wide eyes and was met with Sam's wide tear-filled gaze.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Dean demanded as he stood from his spot on his bed and grasped his brothers' shoulders as he looked him in the eye.

Sam sniffled and turned his head away from his brother, clearly ashamed that he had started to cry in front of Dean like this. But he couldn't help it, all these mixtures of emotions raged inside him and he couldn't help but let it spill out.

"What's a' matter, dude?" Dean prodded, "You were fine just a second ago."

"I'm fine, it's nothing." Sam brushed off, pulling his arm up to wipe his watery eyes with his sleeve before his tears spilled over.

"Bull." Dean insisted flatly, "Tell me what's wrong."

Sam sniffled, and hesitated for a moment before nodding toward the journal he had slammed on the nightstand. Dean's eyes followed Sam's line of sight, and glanced at the journal quickly before looking back at his brother.

"Dad…hunts things, Dean." Sam began; his voice thick as he tried to hold his tears back.

Dean nodded slowly and wordlessly, urging Sam to continue.

"He hunts things that change shape…shapeshifters, skinwalkers – Dean…_we're_ things." Sam continued despondently, "We're the kind of things that dad hunts."

Dean's eyebrow quirked in confusion as he released his brother from his hold – he couldn't believe what he just heard.

"That's stupid, Sam." Dean replied flatly, "You and I are not like the things dad hunts."

"No..?" Sam asked, his voice taking on a higher pitch as it broke beneath all the emotions beginning to spill through his barrier. It was clear he didn't believe Dean's words.

Dean's breath hitched under Sam's intense glare as suddenly the kids blue-green irises blew wide, consuming the whites of his eyes and turned a deep shade of green. His widened pupil constricted slightly, making it look more cat-like, but wide enough to take in the slightly darkened room.

As much as Dean cared about his brother, he had to admit – those eyes were just creepy. Dean didn't really have much of a thing for cats, they sort of bothered him.

"Dean…" Sam continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "Are we even human?"

"Of course we are!" Dean snapped, not even hesitating. He didn't need to, because he already knew that they were in fact human, "Sam, you're being stupid."

Sam's eyes suddenly seemed to shrink back to their human size shape and color as he fixed Dean with a pointed look.

"_Humans_ don't turn into animals, Dean." Sam replied flatly.

Dean was at a loss for words, but instead of letting his confident game-face falter, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Sam, just drop it. You and I are not _things_ to be _hunted_! Those things that dad kills…they're evil – they kill people, they rip 'em apart from the inside out and then eat what's left. Have you or I ever done anything like that?"

Sam shook his head, as he averted his eyes from his brother. He hadn't ever wanted to kill any people, but the animal he could change into did strictly eat meat.

Dean didn't miss the guilty look in Sam's eye, and shook his head out of frustration. "I know that you as a cat, like to eat meat - but you've been around dad plenty of times in that form, and you've never wanted to eat him, right?"

Again, Sam shook his head. Dean was absolutely right with every point he seemed to bring up. But if they weren't monsters, than they were cursed right?

"Are we cursed, then?" Sam muttered, looking up at Dean hopefully.

Dean for a moment was at a loss for words again. Twice in one conversation, Dean thought to himself with a shadow of a grin on his face.

He still didn't consider this a curse. Sure, he and Sam were different from their father, but they weren't cursed and they weren't monsters.

Maybe if the transformation _hurt_, maybe then Dean would call it a curse. But it didn't.

"No." Dean replied vaguely.

"Then what?" Sam demanded. His frustration and sadness turning into anger and rage, "Are we just freaks?"

Dean thought about that for a moment, cocking his head to the side as the words sunk in. He had never really questioned what they were. Things just were the way they were, Dean had always thought. What harm was it that he could sometimes turn into a fox, as long as he wasn't hurting anybody?

"Yeah," Dean confirmed with a half smile lighting up his face, "we're freaks, Sammy. Just you and me."

Sam fell silent at his brothers' words, and scrubbed his hand over his face as he exhaled deeply trying to keep from jumping up and tearing Dean a new one.

Dean sighed at his brothers' lack of a reply and turned his attention to the clock on the wall behind him. It was only a little after eight at night, and the sun had just gone down. Dean loved the winter for this reason. He liked that the days were shorter, and the nights seemed longer.

He then turned his attention back to Sam, and smiled down at the kid brightly before peeling off his jean jacket eagerly.

"I dunno about you," Dean began as he tossed his jacket on his bed before beginning to remove his grey long-sleeved shirt, "but it's been about a month and a half since my last change…I could use some air."

At first Sam didn't reply, he only shook his head. He knew the fact that his brother not changing in a little over a month wasn't bothering him; he wasn't showing any of the signs of needing the change. And Dean could usually go _a few_ months without it.

Sam knew that Dean was finding this awkward. He knew how much his brother liked the change - and what other way to break the awkward tension in the room, than to become things that couldn't talk?

But Sam had gone longer than Dean without changing; the last time he changed was the week of Halloween. Sam remembered, because Dean teased him about being a 'black cat'.

So Sam sighed before nodding his head in defeat as he stood from his bed. Quickly, Sam shed his clothes and was then standing naked in their room.

He looked downward toward his older brother who was already in his other form. He stood on his hind legs, and yipped excitedly – his message clear, he wanted Sam to hurry up and join him.

Dean in his other form had always interested Sam. When Dean was in his human shape he was more reserved and cared a lot more about trying to be 'cool'. But when he was the fox, all of that was dropped and Dean was suddenly like a little kid again – all play and games, unless he was with their dad…when their dad needed Dean's fox's nose, the games were dropped, and the small animal was edgy and protective.

Sam had only seen the fox like that once or twice, but it was still interesting.

Now the Rod Fox in front of him gave Sam an annoyed howl-like bark, and Sam knew his brother was begging him to change.

Sam exhaled deeply, and let the familiar tingling sensation creep upon him from head to toe as he closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, his eyesight was much sharper, though his perspective was lower than his human-self. The animal in his mind also seemed much more prominent as Sam took a seat on the motel rooms' carpet, and began to lick at his dinner plate sized paws.

Dean yipped in excitement and bound toward the panther happily as Sam continued to clean himself up. The fox made an eager grab at the black cats' right ear with his jaws, and gave it a gentle tug.

Sam, now being bigger than Dean in this form – shook his brother off easily, giving him an annoyed hiss for good measure.

The panther, which Dean knew was still Sam pierced Dean with his creepy cat-like stare, knowing full well it gave Dean chills. His pupils were thin vertical slits as it took the light of the room in, showing off his glowing green irises.

Dean hopped away from his brother with a snort, silently telling Sam to knock it off.

Sam's nose twitched in clear agitation, as he gave Dean an open-paw slap upside his head (being careful to keep his deadly sharp claws sheathed) – catching the fox off guard.

The Red Fox yelped in surprise as he stumbled away from Sam. He looked up at his brother with his wide brown eyes, to see Sam was now laying on the ground on his stomach making this weird huffing sounds, which Dean only assumed was laughter.

Dean got up to his feet and snorted a silent, '_bitch' _his brothers' way. Sam looked up at Dean with the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes before snorting his own silent reply – _jerk. _

_

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_

_Thoughts? :)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_May 18th, 1998_

_I think I understand now why Sam is a panther. At first I thought his rebellion against me was adolescence or something…but I don't think that's really the case anymore. Dean never went through this. He never blatantly disobeyed me when I gave him a direct order. _

_Panthers are lone hunters, who usually lay down roots and stick to one spot – very aggressive. _

_Sam bitches at me every single time I pull him out of some town where he starts school. It's clear that he really wants to settle in one area. _

_But we have a job to do. So Sam had better get over it. _

**xXx**

Sam sat at the table in the kitchenette area in their latest motel in Springwood Falls, Washington. In front of him lay papers in askew piles with cluttered scribbled writing on them as Sam researched their new creature of the week. His hand massaged his temple as his elbow lay on the table, supporting his head.

He didn't want to do all this work, but his father had insisted on it – since Sam argued with him last week in the previous town they found a hunt, when he and Dean forced Sam to come along on the actual hunt – causing him to oversleep the next morning, and miss school.

Sam was very serious about school, but even that wouldn't be a good excuse to ditch a hunt for long, because summer break was fast approaching.

Dean hadn't taken school so seriously, much to Sam's frustration. Half way through his senior year of high school, Dean dropped out and decided that getting his GED would be good enough.

Not Sam, though. Sam wanted an actual diploma. With a diploma and his GPA, Sam could present that to any college in the country and get away from this crusade their father forced onto them.

But for now, Sam had to take it one day at a time.

From what he could gather, it seemed they were hunting a werewolf. Month after month, people would disappear – only to be found days later in pieces – their hearts however, were never recovered.

Luckily, tonight just happened to be the first night of a werewolf's cycle - just one week before the full moon. This was good, Sam thought to himself – Dean and their dad would head it off tonight, and kill it before it killed any more people. So tomorrow – their dad and Dean would oversleep while Sam snuck off to school.

Sam did find it slightly funny that he actually had to sneak off to school. Most fathers begged their children to go to school. But then again, nothing about the Winchester's was really normal.

The motel room door suddenly burst open, and in walked Dean followed closely by their father in fine suits and ties – both of them looking rather drawn and tired. They'd been in town all morning posing as FBI agents, talking to victims' families trying to get a lead on this thing.

"Got anything?" Dean asked Sam in a chipper sort of way. Sam instantly knew Dean was putting up a front; he didn't want Sam to know how exhausted he really was.

Sam just rolled his eyes before replying. "Yeah…I think we got a werewolf on our hands."

"What makes you say that?" John demanded as he closed the door behind him.

Sam cleared his throat as he handed Dean the tiny stack of papers with his chicken-scratch handwriting on it which were his notes. Dean took them without complaint and skimmed over the words, muttering the sentences aloud.

"Hmm." Dean finally replied with an approving nod as he handed the notes over to their father, "Looks like Rebecca Cartright isn't the first person to go missing in this town. Turns out there have been more over the last few months…all with missing hearts."

"So we're thinkin' werewolf." John murmured to himself as he read through Sam's notes.

Once he finally looked up, and placed the notes back on the table in front of Sam – John gave his youngest a pointed look. "Sammy, if you're right and this thing's a werewolf – your brother and I could use some backup."

"Dad." Sam started as an angry warning, but then bit his tongue. Sure he was angry – his father had _promised_ him last time that Sam could contribute to this hunt by _just_ doing research.

But how could he say no when his father asked like that? That was a low-blow, and they both knew it. John knew Sam wouldn't let his brother and father walk into this hunt with no one to back them up. What if something happened? Sam would never live down the guilt.

But even still, Sam hated when they went on werewolf hunts. He wouldn't really participate in the killing – he considered it taboo. But it wasn't just werewolves – it was also skinwakers, and shapeshifters.

Dean on the other hand, didn't seem to have a problem with it. And every time Sam asked him why, Dean would shrug and try to assure his brother that what they are is nothing like what they kill.

But Sam isn't really convinced.

"Fine." Sam growled out, "But next time, _I mean it_ – you and Dean are on your own."

"Unless we run into another werewolf hunt." John challenged.

"You're so full of crap, you know that?" Sam snapped, his anger rising, "You know damn well I don't kill these things, so I'm pretty much the crappiest backup you could ever bring along!"

"Sam, we need you out there hunting with us." John admitted, now towering over his son, "Your _mother_ needs you out there hunting with us."

"Screw you." Sam spat as he swallowed a growl he felt rising in his throat.

"Sammy, cut it out!" Dean begged, his face looking genuine. He just wanted John and Sam to get along so the three of them could be a family. But each day, Sam seemed to want less and less to do with John. And Dean knew Sam wanted _nothing _to do with this hunt for their moms' killer.

Dean's biggest fear was that Sam would one day be so fed up with their father and this lifestyle, he would leave. He knew Sam had considered the idea before, but has never made the effort yet. Dean can only hope that he never does.

"We don't have time for your teenage rebellion, Sam. You're coming on this hunt, and every hunt I tell you to from now on – you got that?" John snapped sternly, his intent glare sat unwavering on his youngest son.

Sam's upper lip pulled back into a snarl as he faced his father, he tried to suppress the growl rising in his throat again – but that proved unsuccessful. He _hated_ when his father told him what to do. It was like what he wanted to do didn't matter – who he was, didn't matter.

"Sam, no! Come on, back off!" Dean warned, as he sensed how close his little brother was to the edge.

He could practically smell the change Sam was barely keeping at bay. It was almost like a metallic sort of aftertaste on his tongue. Dean knew that even if Sam did lose it for just a second and shift, he wouldn't attack their dad.

_Usually…_

This time though, Dean couldn't really tell. John had been gently nudging Sam along for a few months now. And now he was abruptly breaking a promise he had made to Sam. And Sam clearly wasn't too thrilled about it.

Sam closed his eyes as he pressed his back into the chair, trying to anchor himself to the ground. He felt the panther clawing at his fingers gently urging him to reach forward and rip their father a new one.

But Sam resisted as he focused on steadying his breathing. He knew their dad didn't approve of what he and Dean could do…but he'd friggin' _hate_ them, if Sam actually attacked him.

Just a couple more years, Sam thought to himself grudgingly. Just a few more years of this crap, and he'd be old enough to leave and not look back.

That day would be a great one, Sam thought to himself longingly with a sigh.

"Fine." Sam grumbled with an eye-roll, "Whatever you say…_sir_."

Neither Dean nor John missed the underlining emotion when Sam called John 'sir'. It was a name Sam rarely called John, unless he were cornered into making a decision he usually wouldn't make.

Truthfully, it had bothered John at first. When he was training his sons, he was their drill-sergeant first – their father second. Calling him 'sir' was a sign of respect. A name Dean had no problem calling him.

Dean felt a change in his little brother that moment, and knew that his fears were being recognized. He couldn't explain it, but in that moment Dean knew Sam had made up his mind.

Once he was old enough, Sam was _going_ to leave them.


End file.
